Cursed

I peeked around the corner of the hall. My mother was standing in front of the sink. Her elegant hands pressed against the edge of the counter as her neck craned to look outside at the peaceful, green country side. I never knew what she was looking for, or if she was really looking for anything at all. My father was out in his workshop, so my mother and I were alone in the house.

The look on my mother's beautiful face was stoically watchful. Her long, chestnut brown waves were tied up into a complicated half-do, her warmingly deep, honey-chocolate eyes unmoving. Everyone told me that I looked like her, with her heart-shaped face, full ruby lips, high cheekbones, and rosy cheeks. Even down to the little things like her almond-shaped eyes, thickly elegant eyelashes, and her beautiful shape. I could seethe similarities, but I didn't believe any of them.

I decided to stop standing there, doing nothing. "Hi, mom." She turned toward me, her warm eyes filling with a sparkle as her lips spread into a loving smile. I couldn't help the smile that pulled up my lips.

"Good morning," She moved across the room in one graceful motion, "Are you going out already?" I nodded sheepishly as her elegant arms wrapped around me. Her chin pressed against the top of my head as she held me, "Happy birthday, Lisette."

"Mom..." I sighed defeatedly. Every birthday, my mother and father smothered me as though I were dying or I weren't going to make it to my next. I never bothered asking about it because I wasn't really all that curious.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." She placed a kiss on my forehead before reaching into the next room and grabbing my plain, beige messenger bag and handing it to me.

"I want you to be careful, honey." She said, "I don't want you out too late tonight. We're having your favorite dinner, and we were going to invite—"

"Mom," She paused, "I'll be home by six, okay?" I held her face with my petite, slender fingered hands. I tried my best to layer my voice with sincerity.

"Alright, darling." She placed a kiss on my cheek as I trot into the kitchen and out the oak-framed, half-windowed door.

As I passed my dad's tiny workshop, I shouted, "Going to the square, dad!" A spectacle-wearing, lankly man with a kind face walked out, wiping grease off his hands.

His pale, silver flecked cerulean eyes held mine as he ambled toward me. A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth that made the corners of his eyes crinkle,

"Happy birthday, Lissy." He wrapped his arms around me, his regular squeeze of affection.

"Thanks dad." I muttered into his chest.

"How old are you today?" He chuckled jokingly, "Five?"

"Dad..." I groaned, pushing away from him.

"I'm just kidding, baby girl." He laughed, "Just don't be gone all night. Try to be home at a decent hour... No later than ten will do." He smiled again, running his large hands through his short, honey hair.

"Dinner." I reminded him as I turned to walk off.

"Right...Right." He muttered. I could still feel his eyes on my back as I strode down hill's the narrow, dirt path. The path wound down the hill and through a tiny, flower-filled meadow at the base of the rise.

This meadow was where I spent my childhood when I wasn't getting lessons from my mother. I would run around and collect giant bouquets of marigolds, irises, and wildflowers. I'd present them to my mother who would sigh in delight and ask if they were for her.

I smiled fondly as I stared out at the tiny, approaching town of Pauperton. This town was small but quaint, and the people were nothing but kind to us. As I ambled through the south gate, I was greeted by Jobe—a balding fifty-year-old man that worked as an automail mechanic.

"Well if it isn't miss Lisette." His gentle wrinkles wrapped around his face in a way that brought emphasis to his kind, blue-grey eyes. "Today isn't your birthday isn't it? How old are you now," He laughed heartily, "Five, right?"

"Hey, Jobe." I smiled; this old man had always been nothing but generously gracious. His light-hearted humor found a way to reach his eyes in an all new way with every cheesy joke he'd ever told me.

"Jobe, leave the poor girl alone." A soft, almost southern-belle drawl said. A woman with graying-platinum blonde hair walked toward us, her sharp eyebrow raised and her arms supporting a basket filled with wheat, "It is her sixteenth birthday, she should be enjoying her day, not listening to your clichéd, humorless quips." Her mouth was a thin, pursed line as she turned to me. Her foggy, blue-hazel eyes softened, "Happy birthday, Lisette dear."

My cheeks tingled delicately in affection, "Thanks Mrs.. Meriwether," I tucked a lock of my chestnut hair behind my ear, "I'm going to the square, I'll see you guys later."

They waved me off after Jobe made another corny joke. I continued down the wide, light stony path, passing a few small housing communities. These were where the less fortunate lived. They weren't horrible, but most of them consisted of tiny, pale-colored shacks that time had beaten down and claimed as its own with the ivy that now clung to their walls. Though, the people here still seemed content. Many of them had children, so they were grateful to have a roof over their heads.

Further down the path, was the square. This was the circular, stone-paved center of town in which vendors would sell their wares, a few scattered groups would sing acapella or with a lute with the children gathered around, or even a few individuals would advertise for shops in different parts of the town. The vendors ranged from fabrics to produce and weaponry—there was a war over in the troll kingdoms after all. Crowds of people were bunched around the outdoor plaza, some lined up or swarming around vendors. Some were wearing regular traveling robes or casual, bland-colored garb. Others—the higher class—were adorned with colorful clothing that oddly resembled Victorian dresses/suits. The wealthy around here tended to show off—why, I had no clue. We were only in a tiny town.

I got many greets of hello as I walked through. People—even some I didn't know personally—tended to like me. I never knew why, or what I'd done to get in their good graces, but I was thankful. Many of the villagers that passed me even wished me a happy birthday.

Even an older girl from the other side of town—the more prosperous side—wished me a happy birthday. Her honey-blonde hair was always pinned up in a braided up-do that complemented her thin, oval-shaped face, and her deep hazelnut eyes sat upon her sharp cheek bones so perfectly. She was one of the most beautiful girls in the village, and in my opinion, had the most beautiful olive colored skin that I had ever seen. All of the guys fawned over her, and she always composed herself with such grace that a swan would peal over dead in jealousy. Her name was Bonnibelle Wilker. When I thanked her, she flashed me a beautiful smile that—if I had been a male—would have given me a heart attack.

"Eh, Lisette!" A rough, scratchy voice called. I turned toward the sturdy, oak wood stand that was lined with richly textured and colored fabrics. The vendor was a tiny old lady with stark, white hair pulled into a taut bun atop her head. Her beady black eyes held no mercy as they were filled with pride. "I've got somethin' for ya, girlie." As I approached, the pride had grown into hubris, as she flashed me a nearly toothless grin. Her lined face was pulled tight with the strain of her grin as she looked me in the eye—surely standing on several boxes to reach eye level with me.

"What's up, Brunny?" I glanced at some of her creations lying strewn across the wooden table, a smirk on my face. She was such an eccentric old woman...

"I says I've got somethin' for ya, girlie." She hopped down, rummaging for something beneath the counter. "You're mama and papa commissioned somethin' from ol' Brunhilda months ago, kid. They says, 'Make somethin' or another for our babe's sixteenth.' Well, you know ol' Brunhilda; she says, 'Ya, I'll makes ya somethin' real good for her since you're such good customers and whatnot.'" She rummaged for a minute more before speaking again, "Ah-ha! There's ol' Brunhilda's works." She grinned up at me over the counter, "You're mama and papa must love you an awful lot, cause ol' Brunhilda's works ain't cheap, girlie."

I sighed, "They didn't really have to..." Irritation began to seep through the gratefulness that I felt toward them. Every single birthday...

The little old lady didn't seem to hear me because she continued to brag about her work. "Ol' Brunhilda weaved this from the sturdiest thread you could think of: umbra hemp, girlie. So hard t' tear, it's almost better armor than chainmail, if Ol' Brunny do says so herself." Her scrawny arms placed a pearl and ivory dress on the table, "This ol' lady does good works." She was absolutely right. The dress was an ivory color with ornate pearl beading on the drop-necked chest. The dress, in many ways, was very simple, but it was perfect. Not too fancy yet still feminine, just how I liked it.

"Oh! Brunny, It's beautiful!" I gasped.

"Yes, this ol' Brunhilda knows is true." She smiled toothless. I smiled fondly. It was truly beautiful... "You're mama and papa give t' me good money, now, off you goes t' put on." I grabbed the dress and allowed her to usher me into her tan canvas tent that she had set up behind her oak stand. Strew across the tent were oddly fascinating fabrics of my different kinds, and a tiny bed sat in a corner—covered in patched fabrics mixed with fur that I could only guess to be a blanket.

I stripped off my regularly plain, cream-colored dress and slipped on the new one. I glanced down at it. Even with my slightly clunky, buckled black boots, the dress still complemented my figure and porcelain skin. A soft smile spread across my lips as I looked over the dress. "It's so pretty!" I giggled to myself. I stuffed my old dress into my bag and stepped out.

"Yes, ol' Brunny does good does she not." The old lady pulled me forward by my hand. "Tell mama and papa t' come t' ol' Brunhilda when more is needed. Haves a good birthday, girlie." I thanked her politely and walked away. The fabric was so airy, so smooth and comfortable. I could see now why umbra hemp was such a valuable—and expensive—material.

As I passed a group of people, a strange hooded figure caught the corner of my eye. We didn't often get visitors that weren't just passing through, so it took me off guard. I looked back at the figure and a pair of burgundy eyes stared back at me. I jumped back, my heart lurching at the startle.

"How odd..." A pair of black-stained lips uttered an attractive female voice. Almost alluring in a darkened way...

"What...?" What an ingenious response... Come on Lisette, you can do better than that! "Odd...?" Better...not by much, but better.

"Such a peculiar eye color...practically Unheard of..." She advanced closer, triggering something in the back of my mind that said run. Curiosity lingered as well, so I only stepped back. "Violet...no, almost lilac in color...like you were a blessed child..." She muttered cryptically.

"What...?" How articulate you are...

"You are Lisette Verity are you not?" A look of keen interest entered her dark crimson eyes, sending a jolt of—actually, I didn't recognize the feeling. I could describe it, and that alone scared me.

"Y-yes, but what—"

"That's all I needed to know." She turned away from me, "Lisette Verity, you might not want to return home tonight..."

"Wait a minute, what are you talking about!?" I reached out to grab her shoulder, but when I blinked, she was gone. I couldn't believe my eyes; why hadn't I caught her leaving. All I had done was blink, and before I could even place a hand on her shoulder, she was nowhere to be found.

Her words left an eerie feeling in my stomach, a feeling of dread and foreboding. But why...? Was there something I was missing? Were my parents in some sort of trouble? Who was that woman? She barely looked older than me...maybe Eighteen or seventeen. She was beautiful too, her skin a snow porcelain—even paler than me. But those eyes... What was she? Normal people don't have red eyes—well, they don't have purple eyes either, but still...

Then something struck me. My parents were home, right now...alone... And if they were in danger, I needed to warn them.

Thunder boomed in the distance causing me to jump, quickening my heart pace. I glanced off into the distance, beyond the south gate. Dark masses of clouds
sweeping across the sky, enveloping it in a bulky gloom that lingered over head. The wind rushed around me, forcing me to hold down my skirt as my hair blew backwards and I fought to keep balance. A chill misted the air, forcing a shiver down my spine.

I trudged forward, forcing the wind to part and pushing through the crowds of frantic people. I had to get home, so I ran. I ran as hard as my legs would allow me, keeping my head down to cut through the wind. I did my best to avoid the bustling people rushing to get out of the streets, but I still bumped into the occasional person. Then I would apologize and move on.

The wind grew wilder after I got out of town. It whipped around me in all directions, forcing me to stumble and fall a few times as I trekked up the winding, narrow path to my house. By the time I reached the door to the kitchen, it had already taken ten minutes and my skin was cold, numb and scraped.

I shoved the door open, with all my might finally getting it open. Once inside, I wrestled the door closed. My ears were pounding from the excess adrenaline and panic.

Dead silence rang through the room, only broken by the sound of my frantically beating heart. The house was so dark that I could barely make out the shapes of what I knew to be my kitchen. The air was so freezing that it cut into my already numbed skin. My heart thumped unevenly in my chest as I stumbled forward clumsily. My legs trembled as I felt my way around until I was no longer in the kitchen. I knew I was in the foyer when my feet were no longer making the familiar clicking on the tile.

A soft light flickered from the dining room. I stumbled in and glanced around the square room. One, large candle lit the entire room, the flickering flame bouncing off of the warm wooden floors and the large, curtain drawn windows. The dinner table was set with a lacy cloth and china plates lay out nice and orderly, seemingly untouched. My mother must have set the table early, awaiting the moment when food would be served after I'd returned home. This was where my birthday dinner would be served. I heard a noise from the next room over...the Living room. I staggered out of the dining room and toward the source of the noise. A soft light was cast beneath the living room door down the hall. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat as I approached the door hesitantly. I felt like a child wandering through a dark house as she looked for her parents. My shaking hand reached for the door knob, freezing when an unfamiliar woman's voice trickled beneath the door.

"Where is the child?" Her voice was soft, deadly, and beautiful. It had a chiming elegance that rang with danger and sent a chilling fear rippling down my spine.

"Our daughter died when she was born." My father answered steadily. Died...?

"Don't lie to me." The woman sneered darkly, "Where is she?"

"She was stillborn." My mother cried. What!? I was perfectly fine. I was standing right here.

"Lies!" The woman screeched sharply.

"We swear—" My mother's voice was filled with tears. My hand shook as the yearning to comfort her filled me. Why was she crying?

"If that child truly died, then why avoid me? Why not try again?" The woman snapped menacingly, "You knew our agreement." My mother's sobs echoed through the room. A pang rang through my heart. They were protecting me...protecting Me from this woman...but Why? "You will pay for your defiance." She said, a threat rolling through her voice in waves.

Terror twisted my stomach, blurring my vision. My body completely stopped reacting, freezing in place. This woman was going to hurt them. A small voice in the back of my mind urged and screamed at me to run. There was a chilling silence that rang throughout the house, only to be broken my screams. I threw the door open, my mind not prepared for the sight awaiting me.

My mother laid draped over my father, both of them wide-eyed and covered in crimson. Gashes slit their throats, exposing raw muscle. The liquid that oozed onto the floor smelled like iron and soaked the room in the stench that assaulted my nose and constricted my stomach. I forced down the urge to vomit, covering my mouth to ease the nausea. My head began to float and my eyes burned. Panic surged through my stiffened body , my heart rampaging roughly in my chest.

"Well...it Seems as though they were hiding something..." That woman's voice sighed beside me. I whipped around, shocked by the sight of the murderer. This...woman's Long burgundy dress draped around her voluptuous body and hung to the floor. Her lips were the color of wine and her eyes the color that stained my living room. Her skin was the color of moonlight and shone with radiance even in the dim candle light. Her beautiful face was one that you would expect of a model, and her raven colored hair lay across her shoulders.

"Such ignorant children..." As she spoke, her lips twisted into a smile that sent a jolt of horror through me. "They should have known not to defy me. How they've managed to hide this long I will never know..." Her crimson eyes turned to me, "You are quite the beauty to behold, it was a shame that I never got to taste your soul..." My vision blurred as a tear trickled down my face.

She moved toward me, her hand outstretched as though she were going to touch me. My muscles seized and my heart shuttered frantically as I stared up at her—easily a foot taller than me. Her slender, gloved fingers touched my face. "It is a shame that I cannot take your soul tonight. It would bring me great joy to taste such innocence, but it saddens me to think that you will be alone here." Her voice was filled with a bit of twisted humor. "You're loving parents were fools for taking you away from me, and I might have given them to simple a verdict..." She sighed glancing over them. "I should have made them suffer for defying me, but no...I Had to be forgiving and compassionate." Her head cocked to the side, "If you hadn't appeared tonight, I would have left it be and I might have believed them. But, seeing as you are standing before me—complete with the blessed eyes—I have no choice but realize that they lied. Now, you are the only one left who can bear the burden of their mistake."

My eyes widened, my pulse reverberated through my skull, and a fresh torrent of tears scalded my eyes. My entire body tensed as a sob rolled through my chest, drawing her eyes to my face. "Don't worry child, I will not kill you." A dazzling smile filled with mock compassion spread across her lips, "It was not you who made the mistake, so I will at least give you a chance to redeem your parents' mistake. There is something that I have been vying after for quite some time, and I need assistance finding and retrieving it." She peered into my eyes as her gloved hands stroked my chestnut curls. "This is where I need you. The Stone of Resurrection—"

"Is a myth..." I covered my mouth as she raised a brow.

"Well, for your sake, you'd better hope otherwise." She smirked deviously, "But of course, I cannot allow you to walk freely. How am I to know you will do my bidding?" She seemed to think for a few moments, long enough for my breathing to get caught in my throat. "Ah...a Simple curse shall do...If I am correct, this is the eve of your sixteenth birthday?" I nodded briefly, trying to ignore the bout of nausea the quick movement brought with it. "Yes...I Have reached my verdict." She stated, tilting my chin up. "You have exactly one year from this date to find the Stone of Resurrection and give it to me. If you have not found it within that year, this curse will envelop you and you shall be wishing for the death that I will grant you." Her wine red lips touched my forehead and a bout of pain shot through my body.

My stomach ached and writhed as I fell to my knees. The nausea couldn't be fought into submission, not this time. I tried to fight down the urge, but I couldn't stop myself from retching...blood? My thumb brushed across my lip. The crimson liquid was warm...and It smelled and tasted like...iron... My vision slurred and the last thing I heard was her laughter bounding through my skull before I slipped into the darkness.